Uninhibited
by Citizenjess
Summary: Anakin has never seen his Master truly relax. Slash. Written with patientalien.


Summary: Anakin had never seen Obi-Wan truly relax. Co-written with patientalien.

* * *

**Uninhibited**

* * *

He hadn't been expecting visitors that evening. Anakin was out with some of the other Padawans, supposedly studying but probably getting into sufficient mischief, and Obi-Wan had planned to spend the night quietly and alone, catching up on reports, drinking tea, and meditating, none of which were things his apprentice was particularly fond of.

The rapping on the door was short but persistent. Half-engrossed in a sheaf of paperwork, Obi-Wan blinked a couple of times before it registered just who had interrupted his hermiting. "Garen!" he exclaimed hastily, pulling open the door in a welcoming gesture to make up for his former blustering. "What brings you to these parts?"

"Oh, you know, Oafy." Garen's smile was crooked, his manner casual as he sauntered through the entryway. "The usual drunken debauchery." He produced a bottle of amber-colored liquor from his cloak and made a show of displaying the label for Obi-Wan. "Ta-da!"

Obi-Wan sighed deeply, glancing back at his abandoned tea. So much for a quiet evening alone. "You're worse than some of the Padawans, Garen," he groused, gesturing for his friend to enter fully. As if he owned the place, Garen swaggered over to the sofa, pushing Obi-Wan's data pad out of the way, sending it clattering to the floor. "Figured you could use some fun and excitement for a change," Garen informed him with a lop-sided smirk that Obi-Wan found all-too reminiscent of Anakin. With another sigh, Obi-Wan replied, "Why meditate and relax when I can have you bringing me fun and excitement in a bottle?" He shook his head and made his way back over to the main room, wondering what he could have done to deserve this.

Garen, to his credit, appeared to be considering this. "I give. Why?" Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and shoved Garen's foot off of his coffee table. "It's a good thing Anakin's out tonight," he griped. "You are a terrible influence."

"Ah, so the kid's away. I suppose this is the Master's idea of ... play?" Garen snorted, glancing at the now turned over datapad.

Obi-Wan sat on the couch opposite him. "For all you know, I might have been readying myself for a bubble bath," he protested. Garen set the bottle of Ithorian Mist between them; Obi-Wan started to stand anew so he could find drinking glasses, but Garen simply waved his hand and summoned them from the small kitchen area. "You are not allowed around Anakin," Obi-Wan said sternly.

Garen poured liberal amounts of whiskey into each glass and shrugged. "Chill out, Wan," he said, and his eyes were still twinkling. Reluctantly, Obi-Wan picked up his and took a slow swig; the Mist burned his throat a little, but settled in his stomach pleasantly enough.

It had been some time since he'd had anything as fine as Ithorian Mist. He tended not to keep liquor in the apartment, partially because he did not want to make a habit of it, and partially because his apprentice tended towards unhealthy curiosity. "Easy for you to say," Obi-Wan replied, sipping again from his glass. "You're not the one with a Padawan who won't stop asking questions." While most of the time, Obi-Wan welcomed Anakin's questions - they showed he really was trying to understand the lessons imparted - at times, he did grow a little weary of them. Garen snorted into his glass. "Surely there aren't any questions the great Master Kenobi can't answer," he taunted, waggling his eyebrows at Obi-Wan playfully.

Obi-Wan glared tiredly. "You don't know my torment. Just yesterday, he wanted to know whether there was a corollary to the portion of the Code that stated that attachment to oneself was all right because otherwise we'd never 'get off', as he put it."

Garen chortled. "A kid after my own heart."

Obi-Wan growled. "It's ridiculous. He's astute enough, and a quick learner when he wants to be, but he'd rather spend his time in class playing games on his Holopen. He's talented during sparring practice, too, but as soon as he knows that anybody's watching, he shows off."

Garen drained his glass and poured himself another. "Them's the breaks of having a Padawan." He took a gulp of whiskey and wiped his mouth unceremoniously with the back of his hand. "Shoulda thought of that before you made any promises to dying Jedi Masters."

"Yes, I'll remember that next time, thank you," Obi-Wan retorted, frowning into his own glass.

"Hurry up and finish that," Garen chided, reaching over the table with the bottle. "I'm ahead of you. That's not acceptable." He grinned that cocky grin again and topped off Obi-Wan's glass before Obi-Wan could protest. The whiskey was warm going down, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but smile slightly. Garen, after all, was just trying to be a good friend. Just trying to inject a little levity into Obi-Wan's hum-drum Masterly life. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at his friend.

Garen feigned shock. "Me?" he gasped, palming his chest dramatically for effect. "Why, Oafy-Wan, how could you even suggest such a thing?" Obi-Wan allowed his loud swallowing of his current mouthful of whiskey to serve as his response. "Point taken," Garen grinned. They lapsed into comfortable silence. "Hey," Garen said suddenly, "remember that drinking game we played at Tachi's Master's place? You two had to stay in the fresher together for ten minutes with the lights off -"

"I'm sure even if I were unable to recall the events in their sordid entirety, you would be overwhelmingly glad to fill in the blanks," Obi-Wan cut in.

"But you do remember," Garen said petulantly.

"Mmm." Obi-Wan busied himself with another gulp of whiskey. He refused to allow Garen the pleasure of any further answer. He'd tried, since Anakin had hit puberty full-force, to forget all about his own youthful indiscretions. After all, it was difficult to lecture one's apprentice when one had done the exact same thing at that age. "So did Tachi ever give you your balls back?" Garen asked, and Obi-Wan choked again. "That's a no, huh?" Garen filled their glasses again and sat back. "Her Padawan, Ferus Olin - weird kid, huh? Kind of a tight ass."

Obi-Wan accepted the addition of alcohol in his glass without fanfare this time. "Anakin and Ferus do not get along terribly well," he noted aloud. "Anakin often complains that he feels Ferus is always breathing down his neck and the like."

"Yeah, he's already got a Master who does that," Garen said, then winked. The action was ludicrous, and Obi-Wan spluttered a little. "Where'd he go, anyway?"

"To the Archives," Obi-Wan said.

Garen laughed outright. "They still use that one?"

Obi-Wan bristled at the implication. Okay, granted, he knew Anakin was likely anywhere but the Archives, but his apprentice knew better than to leave Temple grounds proper without a Master present."Yes," he said firmly. "They do, apparently." Garen barked out a laugh. "And how many times were we really where our Masters thought we were?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Sighing, Obi-Wan sipped his whiskey. "You give him too little credit."

Garen looked slightly recalcitrant, seeming to notice that he'd struck a nerve. "Ah, I'm sure he listens more than you think," he back-tracked, waving his hand. "He's ... a great kid, you know." Obi-Wan looked at him. "Really, Wan. I, I like the little brat. He's got a good sense of humor, and he's obviously nuts about you."

"Talking about yourself again?" Obi-Wan joked half-heartedly, but Garen's admittance - coupled with the Ithorian Mist already swirling in his system - had warmed him. "I appreciate Anakin very much," he confided, glancing blearily at his glass as Garen topped him off yet again. "He is caring and determined and fun-loving, despite my best efforts to be a spoil-sport." The word 'beautiful' came to mind, as well, but Obi-Wan managed to leave it out of the litany.

The alcohol, for better or worse, seemed to have loosened Garen's tongue as well. "You're a good Master, Wan," he complimented. "I just ... just didn't expect to see you as one so soon. Or ever."

"Events do not always happen as they are supposed to," Obi-Wan said sagely, in what Anakin called his 'Master voice'. The effect was somewhat marred by his small burp, but the point was well-taken nonetheless.

"I just meant, you know, you never really got a chance to relax," Garen continued. "You were on pins and needles with your Trials coming up, and then all of the sudden, your Master's dead and you get saddled with a Padawan when you're just barely not one yourself. You were meant for another path, Oafy," Garen said, and his voice was sad now, reminiscent.

Obi-Wan swallowed. "My path was chosen for me. I didn't ... I wouldn't give Anakin up now for anything," he said vehemently. "But at times, back when we were first getting to know each other, I resented him a little."

Garen set his (again, empty) glass down on the table with a soft 'clank'. "It doesn't make you a bad person," he offered, negating the unspoken implication. "It's not like Quin or Bant ever took a Padawan," he snorted, referring to his and Obi-Wan's mutual childhood friends. He sobered again quickly. "It makes you a good person. All the same, though ... it would have been fun to cavort around the galaxy together, wouldn't it?" That playful, lopsided grin was back. "Think about it, Oafy: you and me. No Padawans, no responsibilities to anyone but ourselves. Flying around, exploring new worlds."

Obi-Wan smiled sadly at him. "I appreciate your candor, old friend," he said softly. "But it is simply not a practical thing to hope for anymore. And besides," he added, trying to lighten the mood, "I hate to fly."

Garen grinned. "You would have put up with it."

Obi-Wan downed his own glass and set it next to Garen's. "You're right," he admitted. "I would have." The melancholy hung between them for several long moments.

"So has Tachi ever done anything else with your balls except keep them in a jar?" Garen asked, if only to break the lengthy silence.

Obi-Wan's gaze flew up. "What!"

"Come on, Wan, inquiring minds want to know," Garen teased, ducking a pillow chucked at him from the couch opposite. "Did you or did you not ever finish what you started that night in the 'fresher?"

"You're absurd," Obi-Wan laughed accusingly. Garen tossed the pillow back at him using a trace of the Force, and Obi-Wan caught it in kind in mid-air, then flicked his wrist and sent it back over to Garen. He allowed it to hover above his friend's head before plopping it into his lap.

"Use the Force for frivolous things, you should not," Garen admonished in a gratuitous impersonation of Master Yoda. Snickering at his own joke, Garen flung the pillow back at Obi-Wan. "Cock-blocked, you have been," he continued mockingly.

Obi-Wan groaned at the crack. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a terrible person?" he complained, catching the pillow full in the face this time and sitting on it defiantly.

Garen smirked. "Pretty much everyone."

Obi-Wan laughed merrily, suddenly feeling as if the weight of the past few years was lifting from his shoulders, as if Garen's flight of fancy were true. "Well, good, I..." His thought and laughter were interrupted, however, by the door to the apartment slamming open.

* * *

Anakin really hoped he had the right apartment, this time. He seemed to, since the door had opened when he'd pressed his hand to the lock-pad. It was a relief, really, because he hadn't wanted to comm Obi-Wan to tell him to stand outside the door because he was maybe just a little too buzzed to figure out where in the Temple he was. The Temple, after all, was a big place.

His intentions hadn't been to get drunk, exactly. He'd started out feeling restless from tinkering with some spare droid parts, and then when meandering around the Padawan dorms had not provided relief, he'd made his way down to the lower portions of Coruscant. He knew his Master would birth a bantha if he knew the truth, so Anakin had comm-linked him hastily and told him that he was "studying". He knew Tru would back him up if it came to that - Tru was loyal like that.

So Anakin had hung around the seedier parts of the city planet for several hours, passing by all manner of activity, before seating himself in a nightclub that he knew would serve him. He drank and took in the sights. He knew Obi-Wan hated this part of Coruscant because of all the "pathetic life-forms" that made it their home, but in truth, Anakin found it exciting. Life at the Jedi Temple should have been relaxing in theory, but Anakin always felt like he was brimming with emotion and didn't have any way to free them. At least in the deeper reaches of the city, he wasn't been minded by the long arm of the Council. If they ever found out about his soirees into the depths he'd never hear the end of it, but at least for now, he was granted some semblance of freedom down there.

Leaning back against the now-closed door, Anakin closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gauge whether or not Obi-Wan was at home. Knowing him, he probably was, and probably doing something terribly boring. But instead of silence, or the sound of hot water boiling, or the 'tap-tap-tap' of Obi-Wan's fingers on his datapad, there was... laughter.

Anakin frowned, wondering again if he had the right apartment; he blinked a few times fuzzily. He was pretty sure he was swaying a little - hopefully, Master Obi-Wan wouldn't notice.

And that's when he saw it: his Master, sitting across from Garen Muln, whom Anakin had met briefly on previous missions. Garen was finishing describing something to Obi-Wan that apparently involved a lot of motioning, which wasn't so unusual. What was unusual was the fact that Obi-Wan was completely engrossed in the story. Anakin had seen his Master chuckle diplomatically, sure, but this was different. Obi-Wan was clearly enjoying himself, and making no small show of it, and, Anakin noticed sourly, Garen didn't seem to be minding much.

Anakin's insides churned. Perhaps it was the alcohol affecting his judgment, but something about the scene before him was incredibly upsetting. Obi-Wan didn't roar with laughter like that when Anakin told him amusing stories about how he and Tru had put on a display for their classmates at the Temple to teach them about gundark mating habits. He didn't slap his knees and snort when Anakin tried to pick up his lightsaber with his feet. He certainly didn't drink copious amounts of Ithorian Mist, Anakin thought, noting the near-empty bottle sitting in front of his Master. Obi-Wan was always perfectly composed around him, always a little good-naturedly disapproving. Anakin hadn't had anything to compare his Master's behavior to previously, but now, with Garen gesticulating wildly to mime a crashing starship or something and Obi-Wan chortling, he did: around him, Obi-Wan never relaxed. He wasn't truly happy around his apprentice, and the thought made Anakin want to put as much distance between himself and here as possible.

"Oh, Anakin," his Master called to him brightly. Too late. Obi-Wan didn't slur his words, but his voice wavered just enough for Anakin to confirm that Garen had not been the only one drinking. He patted the couch cushion on his right a couple of times in acquiescence. "Anakin, you remember Garen," his Master continued, still smiling. Anakin found himself biting back a sharp retort as he nodded. He didn't want to get in trouble just now, after all, didn't want Obi-Wan to lose that smile.

He realized, somewhat blearily, that he liked Obi-Wan's smile. He made his way to the sofa and, rather than sitting beside his Master, he leaned against the armrest, crossing his arms over his chest. "Garen," he said with a slight nod. Something dark and ugly was churning up inside him, and Anakin swallowed heavily. "Having fun, Master?" He winced as he tripped over his words, but Obi-Wan's smile did not falter. The atmosphere in the small living area was heady.

Garen gave Anakin a short salute. "Hey there, kid," he offered; his grin was crooked like he never took anything completely seriously. Usually Anakin found that kind of cool since most of the Jedi Masters he knew were such hard-asses, but today it only served to infuriate him. Anakin only pursed his lips in response to the greeting. Garen seemed to sense something was wrong. "Think we oughta let him have a little, Wan?" he asked.

Obi-Wan blinked slowly, then turned and regarded Anakin as if he hadn't realized he was there. "No," he said, still to Garen even though he was staring at Anakin. "No. No alcohol for, for Anakin." He seemed to find this hilarious and began giggling anew, and Garen joined in. Only Anakin remained un-amused. On the contrary, he was seething - not because he was being disallowed alcohol, of course, but because ... this wasn't Obi-Wan. This wasn't his Obi-Wan, anyways, this was Garen's Obi-Wan, and Garen had no right to Obi-Wan because Obi-Wan was his, only his, and he didn't laugh like a Padawan at a raunchy joke or act like his apprentice wasn't even there.

He half-wondered if it was the alcohol making him feel so hostile towards Garen, but suddenly realized ... no. No. He was honestly and genuinely ... jealous. And, if he were to be honest with himself, somewhat hurt. Why didn't Obi-Wan ever act like this around HIM? Why did he only get to see the serious, uptight side of his Master? Did Obi-Wan really think that acting like a human being from time to time would hurt Anakin's training?

He pushed himself off the armrest, stumbling forwards slightly before catching himself. He couldn't watch this any more, couldn't listen to Obi-Wan's joyous laughter and know it wasn't because of him. He knew he could take his leave quietly and brood, but he felt he needed to say something. "I'll be up in my room," he announced, cutting off something Garen was saying in mid-sentence. "Come find me when you want to remember you have a Padawan, Master." He stomped off angrily, fists clenched at his sides, leaving a somewhat sobered Obi-Wan and Garen in his wake.

"Well, that was ..." Garen began, then trailed off. He glanced at Obi-Wan, then nodded in the direction of Anakin's quarters, from which the sound of a door slamming reverberated. "Short-lived," he finished a moment later. "What's eating him, do you think?"

"It's Anakin," Obi-Wan said, as if that explained everything. He rubbed his temples and stood up. "Garen, I apologize on behalf of my Padawan for his rudeness. I ... you are always welcome, of course."

"Hey, Wan, no need for the formalities. It's me, remember?" Garen grinned and nudged Obi-Wan playfully on the shoulder. "You should go talk to him, though. Tell him I'm sorry if I forgot to put deodorant on or something."

"I will," Obi-Wan laughed. He plucked the bottle of Ithorian Mist off the table and capped it, then handed it to Garen. "Take this with you, please. I have a feeling Anakin can find ways to get drunk easily enough on his own without it being available right at home, too." He sighed and glanced towards Anakin's room again. "Oh, Padawan," he sighed.

Garen nodded and gave Obi-Wan a sloppy, playful kiss on the cheek. "I'll be back," he assured the other man. "Takes more than your apprentice to scare me off forever." He grinned and made his way to the door, while Obi-Wan turned with a sigh towards Anakin's door. He wished he'd hadn't had quite so much to drink - dealing with Anakin when he was in a mood like this was difficult enough sober, after all. But what was done was done, and it was clear what Anakin needed ... even if Anakin was never very good at letting him know.

Obi-Wan rapped on the door softly. "Anakin," he called. He heard shuffling, and then the knob turned and Anakin evil-eyed him moodily through the crack. There was no lock on his apprentice's quarters, but Obi-Wan and Anakin had always had a silent understanding that it was Anakin's personal space and Obi-Wan needed permission to be in there, and it was something Obi-Wan tried hard to uphold. He may have broken the tentative rule this time, however, and was grateful that Anakin did not protest his wanting to come in. Well, not much, anyways.

"Do you mind telling me what upset you so much, Anakin?" he demanded, trying to sound nonplussed. The alcohol in his system was coupling with his irritation, however, and he was pretty sure that it showed. "You were exceedingly rude to Garen, and did not behave in a manner befitting a Jedi in the least." Still, Anakin remained stubbornly mute. "Padawan, I am asking you a question," Obi-Wan said with finality.

Anakin glared. "It's not very becoming of a Jedi Master to be getting drunk in front of his apprentice," he replied sharply, but Obi-Wan could hear something else in Anakin's voice. It was a careful enunciation, as though Anakin were paying close attention to how his words sounded. And now that Obi-Wan was close enough, he could see the red glassiness in Anakin's eyes, could smell liquor on the boy.

He sighed. "What I do in my spare time is not of your concern. What you do, however, is mine." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against the doorframe. "Answer the question, Anakin."

Anakin crossed his own arms, subconsciously mimicking his Master. "It's nothing," he muttered darkly. "It's just that you don't - you, I - you never act that way around me," he finally managed, his voice cracking on the last word. He swallowed furiously a couple of times - he would NOT cry, he told himself. "You never - you don't - I want ..."

"You want what, Anakin?" Obi-Wan said as gently as he could manage.

"I want you to care," Anakin blurted, looking away quickly. He turned back, and Obi-Wan could see him flushing. "I don't want to talk about this," he grumbled.

Obi-Wan inhaled and released the breath slowly. He felt as if he'd just come out of hyperspace into an asteroid field, and needed to tread carefully. "I do care, Anakin," he said, trying his best to sound placating. "And perhaps in retrospect, I should not have ... acted out." He knew there was something else that was wrong - there had to be - but he couldn't quite pinpoint it. "Is ... is there something else bothering you, Padawan?" he ventured.

Anakin shook his head vehemently, losing his balance and putting one hand out to catch himself on the back of his chair. "Nothing," he snarled, his shoulders tense, nearly trembling.

Obi-Wan wasn't buying that one for a moment. "Why don't you trust me?" he asked softly, taking a step forward, wishing Anakin would just ... open up.

"I don't want to talk about this," Anakin repeated firmly, raising a hand to point to the door. "Please get out of my room. I'm tired." The boy frowned, shook his head again, rubbed his fingers against his lips.

"You're drunk."

"So are you," Anakin fired back. His Master's close proximity only served to make him edgier. He clenched his fists at his sides and stood, so that he and Obi-Wan were at eye level with one another. "You say I'm not acting in a manner befitting a Jedi, but I hardly think fucking Garen in front of your apprentice is appropriate behavior for a Master -"

SMACK. The palm across Anakin's cheek was swift-moving and smarted more than anything. Anakin ceased talking and stared at his Master open-mouthed. "You -" he began, his eyes wide and cloudy with confusion and hurt.

Obi-Wan looked rather shocked himself. "Anakin," he began, and reached out to touch the reddened area on his apprentice's face. Anakin jerked his head back as Obi-Wan's hand made contact with his skin, recoiling like a serpent, and grabbing up Obi-Wan's wrist in one fluid motion. "Ana-" Obi-Wan started to say, but his speech was squelched rather effectively by Anakin's mouth crushing against his own.

Obi-Wan struggled against the iron grip of his apprentice for only a brief moment before, against his better judgment, relaxing into the kiss. His decision-making skills had gone out the window in a flood of alcohol and hormones, and he had the feeling Anakin was just as uninhibited - if not more so.

Was it wrong, then, to enjoy this? Just a little? "An- mmpph..." Anakin tightened his grip on Obi-Wan's wrist and pressed them together a little more.

Obi-Wan drew his breath in a slight gasp as Anakin touched his back with his free hand. He hadn't been touched in such a way in a long, long time, and he'd never expected it to be Anakin to do it, to do this. To ... kiss him.

It's just the liquor, Obi-Wan reminded himself firmly. He's drunk, that's all. But there was a lot of Ithorian Mist swirling in his system, too, and so this rationale was not nearly as successful in stopping him from tugging Anakin closer, or running his tongue along the boy's lower lip before shoving it into Anakin's mouth. Anakin's hands went to his Master's belt, tugging Obi-Wan's tunic open deftly and shoving it down his shoulders in one fluid movement.

He was good at this, Obi-Wan thought fuzzily. The notion made him feel possessive. He walked Anakin backwards towards his bed until the backs of Anakin's knees bumped the edge. His Padawan managed to catch himself on his hands, and then, once he was steadied, he reached up to grasp at Obi-Wan's hips. His Master's weight pinning him to the mattress was heavy but pleasant, and he kissed up Obi-Wan's neck, to his chin and finally to his mouth. He wanted to speak, to plead with his Master to do more, to take him, but he wasn't sure how far Obi-Wan's conscience was going to let this go, and talk was cheap.

Better instead to simply... roll with it. This was more than he'd expected, anyway.

He hadn't expected anything at all, really. He never did, from Obi-Wan. He could walk around naked, and Obi-Wan wouldn't raise an eyebrow let alone anything else. But tonight... tonight, perhaps, Anakin would be able to live out a fantasy he'd had since he was old enough to know what a fantasy was. Part of him was convinced this, too, was just a fantasy. Just a make-believe he'd come up with for himself in the back room of one of the clubs he'd been to, a product of too many Tatooine Sunburns.

But Obi-Wan's hands were warm, and this certainly felt real enough. Feeling inspired, Anakin reached down and caressed the (tented, he was excited to find) front of Obi-Wan's pants, beginning to fiddle with the laces on his leggings. His Master made an annoyed sound, and in the blink of an eye, Anakin found his hands wrenched up over his head and pinned to the mattress, his wrists collected in one of Obi-Wan's hands. His Master's grip fell away, but Anakin's hands remained Force-bound.

"I am the Master here," Obi-Wan reminded him, and the boy moaned in surprise as he yanked open Anakin's tunic. He stared down at Anakin for several moments, studying him, and Anakin squirmed at the scrutiny. He wasn't sure what Obi-Wan was looking for - was he not adequate enough? Had his Master's disgust finally gotten the better of him? His worrying came to naught for the moment, however, when Obi-Wan extended one digit and brought it up to Anakin's mouth. "Suck," he ordered softly, and Anakin took it between his lips immediately.

"Master," he whimpered, when Obi-Wan trailed the wettened finger down between Anakin's pectorals and stomach.

"Shh," Obi-Wan replied, dipping his hips down so their groins were touching. Anakin moaned at the pressure, at the myriad of sensations assaulting him, at the excitement of having Obi-Wan so close. "Be quiet, Anakin."

Anakin closed his eyes, reveling in the feelings swirling around, and not only in the Force. The bed rose and fell with each breath he took, the room spun lazily, and Obi-Wan's hands... Obi-Wan's hands were beautiful, touching all the right places, stroking his warm skin. "Master..." he tried again.

His Master's response was to wave his hand and tug Anakin's obi from its place on his discarded tunic. He gripped his Padawan's chin between two fingers. "I have no qualms about gagging you if you cannot be quiet on your own, Anakin," he warned. Anakin bit his lip and nodded several times, and Obi-Wan set the obi aside for the moment. He leaned in to trace Anakin's jaw line with his lips, and then suckled at the boy's neck with a moderate amount of pressure. Anakin hissed and squeezed his eyes shut, and Obi-Wan chuckled. "So you can do what you are told," he said softly. Then he reached out and flicked his fingers over Anakin's hardened nipples.

Anakin's eyes flew open. "Not ... not fair," he whined, grinding his hips into Obi-Wan's as much as he was able to. "Master ... Master, please," he gasped.

Obi-Wan held out his hand and the obi flew to him. He leaned over, causing Anakin to gasp at the pressure and friction, and quickly tied the obi around Anakin's head, effectively gagging him. Anakin grunted against the rough material, but Obi-Wan just shook his head. "I did warn you," he said with a playful twinkle in his eyes.

Again to his nipples, and Anakin raised his pelvis in an attempt to meet Obi-Wan's again. He wanted to tell Obi-Wan to just get on with it, but he didn't want to ruin this, and besides, there wasn't much he could say with his obi shoved in his mouth. Still, when Obi-Wan ceased bodily contact completely, he wanted to scream. It was almost worse when Obi-Wan began untying his leggings, his deft fingers and knuckles brushing over Anakin's crotch, which felt as if it were on fire.

"You're really a terrible Padawan, at times, Anakin," his Master said, and though his tone was congenial, Anakin felt stung. And yet, when Obi-Wan gripped his hardened cock and pumped it a couple of times, he really did scream, still able to make plenty of noise despite the gag. "Ssshhhhh," Obi-Wan smirked. Anakin had never seen his Master look so ... well, so much like he probably did most of the time. His eyelashes fluttered as Obi-Wan fingered his balls. "But then," he continued, soft enough that Anakin had to strain a little to hear, "you apparently find me to be a terrible Master, so I suppose that that makes sense."

"Mmmm," Anakin tried to protest, but his speech was understandably garbled. He wanted to tell Obi-Wan he hadn't meant what he'd said earlier, but he couldn't form words. He doubted he'd be able to, even without the obi in his mouth, what with Obi-Wan touching him like that, making his skin tingle.

Obi-Wan massaged his balls maddeningly gently. "Now, now, Anakin. Surely you must think that of me, otherwise why would you continually break every rule I've ever set for you?" He leaned forward and captured Anakin's mouth with his own, through the obi, the boy's lips already forcibly parted.

Anakin moaned, wondering suddenly if this was just some sort of terrible punishment. Perhaps Obi-Wan would just leave him like this, without release, in retribution for getting drunk, for saying such things about Garen, for presuming to kiss him first. Maybe Obi-Wan was going to play with him for hours without any intention of finishing anything he'd started. Perhaps his Master didn't truly want him like this at all, but was merely giving his wayward Padawan a lesson on the importance of patience and how his actions had consequences.

In the end, it always came back to Obi-Wan not wanting him in some form or another, Anakin thought gloomily. The thought was crushing; a single tear broke and slid down his cheek. He blinked back more blearily when he felt Obi-Wan's hand wipe it away gently. "You still do not trust me," Obi-Wan said, smiling sadly. Then he slid down Anakin's body and mouthed the head of his cock.

"Msshhttrrr!" Anakin choked out, bucking wildly. Obi-Wan's palm on his stomach kept his hips relatively confined to the bed, but the warmth and pressure around his cock increased, so he could hardly complain. Obi-Wan was good at this, Anakin realized. He may have been jealous if he'd had time to think about just how his prudely seeming Master had become so adept at this sort of activity, but the fact that Obi-Wan was practicing on him made it - at least temporarily - a moot point.

Obi-Wan's tongue twirled around the tip of Anakin's cock, and Anakin shivered as sparks of pleasure ran up his entire body. Warmth spread up from his groin to his stomach and chest, up through his head and down and out his fingers... He'd had this done to him before, but it had never felt like this. Then again, it had never been Obi-Wan touching him, sucking him, licking him... Anakin tossed his head back and moaned, all thoughts of Obi-Wan not loving him flying right out of his head. That was probably the point, he thought.

He gasped against the obi, and his Master took it as a suggestion to take Anakin's entire length into his mouth. A groan tore itself from Anakin's throat, the silky warm sensation almost overwhelming him. He arched off the bed and sobbed as he came, the brush of Obi-Wan's beard against the hyper-sensitive skin of his groin and his own youthful energy sending him into climax. His chest heaved in the aftermath. He felt the lack of pressure on his wrists suddenly, and realized that Obi-Wan had freed his hands. He sat up quickly and took the obi out of his mouth, waiting for Obi-Wan to acknowledge him. He began to reach for his Master's groin, but Obi-Wan moved out of his reach.

"Padawan," Obi-Wan began. His face was flushed, and Anakin wanted to do any number of incredibly debauched things to the man now standing in front of his bed, looking for the entire world like a caged animal. Obi-Wan started to say something more, but seemed to decide against it. "Well," he muttered finally. "Goodnight, Anakin." And then he was gone, and Anakin was left to wonder if what had just transpired had really happened at all.

* * *

The morning made itself known violently in the form of clattering noises from the kitchen. Anakin moaned and rolled over, curling up as tightly as he could to stop his stomach from churning so horridly.

Flashes of the night before came back to him - the clubs, drinking shot after shot, somehow getting back home... Garen, and then Obi-Wan... Obi-Wan had sucked him off. Or, at least, Anakin thought he had. He wasn't positive - everything was such a blur, and he hurt far too much to think about it.

Except that's where his mind kept going: Obi-Wan, wanton and sensual, touching him, caressing him... And then leaving. Without any warning, leaving. At the memory, Anakin groaned. That just served to spark a fire between his eyes, leaving him even more frustrated and uncomfortable. He sat up groggily and pulled on the leggings and tunic that Obi-Wan had stripped off of him so passionately only scant hours ago, and then padded barefoot into the dining area.

Obi-Wan had been awake for quite a while, as obvious by the smells already emanating from the kitchen. "There is tea if you would like some, Anakin," he said by way of greeting, not even glancing at his apprentice. Obi-Wan's energy signature was scattered, and Anakin recognized the emotions broiling just beneath his Master's surface: guilt. He also knew from past offenses that Obi-Wan was attempting to waylay said guilt by pretending that nothing serious had happened at all. He often resorted to this tactic when Anakin's emotions became too irrational, and knowing that it was happening again made Anakin's hangover symptoms about ten times worse.

"Eggs, Padawan?" Obi-Wan's voice was not unkind, but there was none of the usual joviality that Anakin had come to appreciate in it either. He laid his head on the table before him and closed his eyes. "I do hope you've gotten enough sleep, Anakin," Obi-Wan continued.

"You can't even look at me," Anakin said quietly. And all at once, Obi-Wan's calm-faced resolve was shattered. He slammed the utensils down on the counter, and Anakin winced. He could feel himself beginning to get clammy, sweaty and cold, and undeniably ill-feeling.

"What would you have me say?" Obi-Wan asked softly, and Anakin ventured a glance up at his Master. Obi-Wan stood with his arms crossed over his chest, an expression of frustration and tension on his face. "I'm looking at you right now, aren't I?" He turned back to his breakfast preparations. "How did you sleep?"

Anakin stared at the back of Obi-Wan's head, unable to believe that the older man could just... pretend nothing had happened. Could just go about his day like last night had meant nothing. But then again, it probably did mean nothing to him. Just like Anakin meant nothing. A promise. A burden. Just a kid taking up space. He let out a sigh, his stomach still flipping. His head began throbbing anew when Obi-Wan began to whistle. "Just kill me," he moaned.

Obi-Wan turned and made his way back towards the heating unit, scooping some of the aforementioned eggs out of the skillet into a plate. He brought it back to the table and set it down at his own seat. Anakin watched him sullenly as he speared a bite with his utensil and chewed it. "You are being entirely melodramatic now, Anakin," he cautioned, and the impersonal Master voice was in place once again. "It was your choice to become outrageously intoxicated. Ergo, you are the one who will have to deal with the consequences that it has on your body and mind."

"I don't need a lecture," Anakin grumbled, his eyes darkened slits. Obi-Wan's nonchalance angered him, and he never reacted favorably when he was angry. He reached out and grabbed Obi-Wan's plate of eggs, tugging them out of reach.

"Anakin, what in the blazes-" Obi-Wan began.

"I want an explanation, Master!" Anakin yelled, because he felt as if he spoke normally, Obi-Wan would just continue to ignore him. "I want to know why you can tease me and make me think that maybe you actually do care about me instead of just tolerating me like you've been doing for years, and then you shrug me off like I'm debris the next morning!"

Obi-Wan stared at him calmly, as if he had no idea what Anakin was talking about. For a brief, terrible moment, Anakin wondered if he really had imagined everything, really had just made it all up. His stomach lurched and he squeezed his eyes closed. "I just want an explanation!" he continued once he was sure he could speak again. "Just tell me one way or the other!"

Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow, and Anakin could feel the anger mixing with his nausea, making a very dangerous mix in his gut. "Tell you..." Obi-Wan said. Anakin hated it when Obi-Wan played stupid, when he pretended he had no idea what Anakin was saying.

"Oh don't pull that bantha shit!" Anakin exclaimed, stumbling up from his chair. "You know exactly what I'm talking about!"

"You have no right to talk to your Master in that manner, Anakin," Obi-Wan reprimanded harshly, his eyes flashing blue fire.

"I have every right!" Anakin shrieked, swaying unsteadily on his feet now. "I have every right when it's obvious how little you want to be my Master! When you'd rather spend the night getting piss-drunk with Garen Muln so you won't have to think about your apprentice! I can't do anything to make you want me, Obi-Wan," Anakin gasped out, his breath ragged now. "No matter what I say or do, no matter how much I wish you'd just try once in a while, you would rather Qui-Gon had just left me on Tat-". And then there were no more words as Anakin emptied the contents of his stomach unceremoniously all over the floor.

"Master," he wheezed, his eyes tearing up and wetness dripping off his chin. "Ma- Master, I'm, I-"

"Oh, Anakin," Obi-Wan sighed heavily. He side-stepped the puddle Anakin's previous night's binge had made, and put a gentle arm around Anakin's shoulders. "Let's get you back to bed," his Master said, his tone completely different from what it had been mere seconds before.

Anakin nodded miserably, too mortified to do much more than allow Obi-Wan to guide him back to his bedroom. "I... I'm sorry..." he gasped out, pressing a hand against his mouth to keep his body from rebelling unexpectedly again.

Obi-Wan brushed a hand through his hair and helped him lay down on the bed. Holding up a finger, Obi-Wan hurried from the room and appeared again a moment later with a bucket and a wet wash cloth. "Put your sleep clothes back on," he instructed Anakin gently.

Anakin tried to sit up and collapsed back against the mattress. Obi-Wan tutted and placed a bracing hand underneath Anakin, and then helped him into a sitting position. He gingerly worked Anakin's tunic down his shoulders and arms, and replaced it with a fresh pair of sleep clothes, realizing belatedly that Anakin had likely fallen asleep in his now vomit-stained tunic after the previous night's ... excursion. He left his Padawan's leggings on, and helped Anakin get situated again, covering him with a thick blanket and sitting on the edge of the mattress himself.

Anakin looked up at him miserably, his lower lip trembling. "Master," he began again. "Master, I didn't want to, I ... I didn't mean it ..."

"Ssshhh." It was the second time in recent memory in which Obi-Wan had shushed him, and on this occasion, the effect was completely different. A warm hand pressed against Anakin's brow. "Rest, young one," Obi-Wan murmured, and Anakin could feel the effects of a Force-suggestion calming his still-raging mind. His Master stooped briefly and kissed him, gently, on the forehead.

"Yes, Master," Anakin said, feeling very young suddenly. He drifted off into a, for once, dreamless sleep, feeling calm, relaxed, and ... cared for.

* * *

When Anakin opened his eyes again, it was dark out. He moaned softly - he still felt a little out-of-sorts, a bit disoriented, a bit sick. He wondered if he had given himself alcohol poisoning by accident, and if he had, if Obi-Wan would notice if he'd died.

Sure he would notice, Anakin told himself sullenly, staring down at his blankets. He'd notice he didn't have anyone to take up space, or worry about, or deal with anymore. He'd probably just... move on, like the perfect Jedi that he was.

With a low growl, Anakin rolled over, pulling his blankets over his head. This was ridiculous. He knew better than to focus on the negative like this, knew better than to wallow in his own misery. Part of him was sure it was simply the hangover, but another part of him insisted that his fears were true.

He heard his Master's approaching footsteps and stayed where he was. The last thing he really remembered was throwing up all over the floor, and he was sure Obi-Wan had been the one who'd ended up cleaning it up. Not to mention, he had yelled at his Master a number of terrible things; surely, Obi-Wan had reason to still be angry with him.

"Anakin." The hand on his back made him jump. "I know you are awake, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, sounding ... well, like Obi-Wan: benevolent, kind, understanding, and allowing himself the slightest bit of amusement at his Padawan's general existence. Anakin felt the blanket being tugged down and blinked, rubbing his eyes. "Well, hello there," Obi-Wan said jokingly.

The two stared at each other for a long moment. Obi-Wan reached over and felt Anakin's forehead. "You seem less feverish, at least. Feel any better now?" he asked.

Anakin nodded. "Yes, Master," he affirmed softly. Obi-Wan sat up rather quickly and stiffly after that, and he looked confused. "Master, what-"

"I, do not take this the wrong way, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, waving his hand in front of his face a little, "but I believe you need to brush your teeth."

Anakin felt himself flush, realizing that Obi-Wan was probably quite right. He could taste the stale vomit and the after burn of the drinks he'd had. He was sure it wasn't combining into a very pleasant smell. Kind of like the rest of him, he realized. He felt like he was sweating alcohol, and probably smelled it, too. Not to mention that he could feel puke crusted to his braid. He felt pretty gross, come to think of it.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Anakin took a breath and stood, only to have the room tilt alarmingly, sending him toppling to the floor. Hands pulled him up by his armpits, and Obi-Wan sighed and shook his head, albeit good-naturedly. "Perhaps I should help you," he acknowledged. He placed a comforting hand on Anakin's arm and steered him to their shared 'fresher. "Arms up," he ordered. For once, Anakin listened, and Obi-Wan tugged his sleep shirt up and off.

Anakin was able to remove his own pants, during which Obi-Wan politely turned away. He busied himself with adjusting the shower water, and Anakin stumbled to the sink and grabbed up his toothbrush. The process was slow-going, and Anakin nearly gagged on the thick paste a few times, but his mouth felt sufficiently cleaner afterwards. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and walked shakily over to the shower. He swayed so unsteadily trying to step over the ledge that Obi-Wan began to grab him around the waist. "Can you ... help me ...?" Anakin asked as Obi-Wan began tugging the curtain closed to give Anakin his privacy.

"You're not a little boy anymore, Padawan," Obi-Wan chided. And then he decided he didn't want to have to take Anakin to the Healer's ward because he'd gotten dizzy and collapsed in the shower. "Very well," he muttered, and began to shed his own clothing. He turned away as he slipped off his lower garments; it wasn't as if Jedi were not accustomed to changing in front of one another, but given their recent ... experiences together, he felt suddenly unsure around Anakin even when his grown Padawan wasn't asking his Master to join him in the 'fresher.

He still wasn't sure what had happened the previous night. Well, he knew what had happened, knew what he'd been thinking when he'd done it. But... well... Now he realized he'd made a mistake. Anakin had taken it the wrong way, as Obi-Wan should have expected. Then again, what other way could Anakin have taken it? They'd both been drunk, and Obi-Wan couldn't help thinking that he'd done a terrible thing - especially seeing how out of sorts Anakin was today.

He grabbed up the loofah and some soap, motioning for Anakin to turn around. Again, Anakin was curiously obedient, doing so silently. Obi-Wan began lathering his back, calloused fingers running over Anakin's strong shoulders. Anakin's muscles quivered. Obi-Wan tried to keep his distance, which was perhaps a ridiculous presumption to begin with, considering they were naked and showering together, but he did his best. He handed Anakin the loofah to wash his own lower extremities, and Anakin did so, his back still to Obi-Wan.

Eventually, Anakin found it necessary to turn around. He eyed Obi-Wan tiredly as his Master squeezed a dollop of shampoo into his palm. Anakin was barely taller than Obi-Wan now, and he closed his eyes as Obi-Wan's fingers began lathering his short hair, massaging his scalp in the process. His Master began undoing his braid, and Anakin looked at him again. "I will put it back in for you, Padawan," Obi-Wan assured him, and he nodded.

They were silent for quite some time, until finally Anakin could not stand it any longer. They were silent for quite some time, until finally Anakin could not stand it any longer. "Are you really going to pretend nothing happened?" His voice was strained, soft and pained, and Obi-Wan couldn't help feeling a stab of guilt.

"What would you have me say?" he asked his apprentice, who had his forehead pressed against the shower wall. What did Anakin want to hear? He never seemed to know, anymore. Never said the right thing, never did the right thing. Everything he did or said seemed to rub Anakin the wrong way, seemed to do little more than make him more angry and rebellious.

Anakin seemed to have read his mind. "I can't seem to do anything to please you, Master," he said quietly. "I know that I wouldn't have been your first or even fiftieth choice if you'd been able to actually choose your apprentice," he began, but Obi-Wan cut him off.

"Anakin, the time has come to put this rationale to rest," he said firmly. Anakin looked as if he were going to protest, but Obi-Wan held up his hand. "It is true, I did not exactly choose you as my Padawan. But you are my Padawan now, and I care about you and want to see you succeed. There is no need to worry about whether or not I am going to dump you back on Tatooine, young one," he finished. "I would never do that."

Anakin glanced over his shoulder and frowned. "You could have fooled me," he said sullenly. "I never do anything well enough to satisfy you."

Obi-Wan frowned, not liking the path the conversation was taking one bit. But that seemed to be the way things worked with Anakin, lately. "If you are referring to your spectacular ability to get drunk and consume death sticks as if they are going out of production, then you should be proud, because you do that very well," he reprimanded. "And you are quite adept at completely disregarding everything that comes out of my mouth."

"I listen to you, Master," Anakin protested feebly.

"Only so much for it to go in one ear and right out the other," Obi-Wan retorted. "But even if you do hear what I say, you seem to delight in being rude and disobedient and completely disrespectful of Jedi teachings that do not sync up with your own personal philosophies." Anakin had nothing to say to this and bowed his head. "And the reason that I continue to talk until I am out of breath, and then stop so that I can do it all over again is that ..." Obi-Wan paused. Then, deciding he had nothing to lose: "It's that I love you, Anakin, and I know that you are too important to lose."

Anakin swallowed. "Master..." His expression softened for a brief instant, then his eyes flashed. "Too important to lose?" he demanded, pulling away from Obi-Wan violently. "To who? To the Order? I know the only reason you're doing this is the prophecy!"

Obi-Wan let out a sharp breath and closed his eyes, pleading with the Force for guidance. "You know perfectly well that's not what I meant." Anakin frowned petulantly at him, and he settled his hands on the boy's upper arms. "You are important to the Order, in a sense," he clarified. "But you are also important to me. Because you're you. It has nothing to do with the prophecy, and everything to do with the fact that I have become accustomed to tripping over spare droid parts, or that when you are not here, I have trouble sleeping properly because it is too quiet in here without you." Anakin was wide-eyed as he absorbed all of this. "You give my existence meaning, and order, and I consider you one of my closest friends," Obi-Wan continued. He reached up to caress Anakin's damp cheek. "You are more important to me than you may ever know, my Padawan."

Anakin blinked a couple of times, as if he couldn't believe what Obi-Wan was saying. "Seriously?" he asked, sounding terribly insecure, looking terribly young. "Do you really mean that?"

Obi-Wan reached out and stroked the long strands of hair usually twined into Anakin's braid. "I would not have said it if I didn't mean it," he promised gently. Anakin's eyes were so wide, so full of disbelief. Obi-Wan couldn't help but wonder why he'd never told Anakin any of this before. Then again, he'd never nearly had sex with his apprentice before today.

"Master," Anakin began to murmur, and then his head was tilted backwards and he nearly stumbled. Obi-Wan pushed him towards the spray, perhaps a little overzealously, and Anakin closed his eyes and held his breath as water splashed over his face. He could feel the suds in his hair now swirling around his ankles, and his Master's hands tussling his short locks to make sure all the shampoo was being rinsed out. Obi-Wan continued to keep him under the mist, however, and Anakin began to get worried because he couldn't breathe. Surely his Master wasn't attempting to drown him, he thought. He whimpered a little. Given how strangely his Master had been acting since last night, he suddenly wasn't sure.

Anakin considered struggling, and even began to thrash his head. And that's when he realized that this might be another test; his Master had said he felt Anakin didn't trust him - was he trying to prove it? Anakin steeled himself and continued holding his breath. He trusted Obi-Wan with his life. He knew his Master would never intentionally hurt him. Obi-Wan loved him - he had said it himself. 'I love you, too, Master,' Anakin whispered through their Force-bond. 'You can hurt me if you think it's what I need, if ... if it will prove to you that I trust you. Because I do, Master. I really do.'

Obi-Wan's hands cradled his head and helped him straighten into a standing position at that point. Anakin stared at his Master, feeling open and vulnerable and like he was willing to submit to anything Obi-Wan asked. It surprised him, then, to simply be pulled into a fierce hug. "Master," he sighed, wrapping wet arms around Obi-Wan's back. Obi-Wan simply nodded and helped him climb out of the tub. Once they were both safely out, Obi-Wan wrapped Anakin in a huge, soft towel and sat him on the lid of the toilet while he retrieved his own towel.

"I care for you a great deal," Obi-Wan informed him gently. "Which is why what happened last night cannot happen again." Anakin felt his heart clench, and had to blink back stunned tears. "I... should not have touched you last night, Anakin," Obi-Wan continued. "Neither one of us was in control of our faculties, and I fear I may have... taken advantage of your condition."

Anakin began to protest, but Obi-Wan pressed a finger to his lips. "No, Anakin. It was inexcusable. It will never happen again." They were both silent as Obi-Wan finished toweling Anakin's hair. "Get dressed, Padawan, and then meet me out here so I can re-affix your braid."

Anakin nodded, and watched his Master leave. He stared down at the towel and bit his lip. Obi-Wan was a good Master, he thought. He was trying to uncomplicate things by simply stifling any emotions that did not fit into his idea of what their relationship should be. But even though Anakin had been drunk at the time; even though they had fought terribly and he had yelled and cried and been sick afterwards, if the end result was Obi-Wan kissing and licking and sucking him, he knew he would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

'You can tell yourself that this is all for me, Master,' Anakin thought to himself as he tossed the towel on the floor and sauntered out of the 'fresher. 'But you're as much a man as you are a Jedi, and if you want me half as much as I want you, then this is hardly the last time. It's not over, Obi-Wan. Not by a long shot.'

* * *

Obi-Wan hadn't looked in Anakin's direction until he'd slipped on a pair of sleep pants. Once "appropriately clothed", Anakin padded into the living room, his merit beads and bands cupped in his hand. Sitting beside Obi-Wan on the sofa, he opened his fist and blinked. "Could you re-do my braid, Master?" he asked, making a point of brushing Obi-Wan's hand with his fingers as his Master took the offered decorations.

Obi-Wan nodded and gave him a slight smile. "Of course," he replied, reaching out with his free hand and running his fingers through Anakin's silky hair. "Hold these," he instructed, handing the beads and bands back, and Anakin couldn't help but notice that Obi-Wan, too, had brushed their hands together. He sat back against the cushions and closed his eyes, enjoying the soft sensation of Obi-Wan running his fingers through his hair. He was feeling much more human, now, and hardly sick at all. Maybe it was because Obi-Wan was touching him. His Master's fingers worked the length of hair deftly, occasionally caressing Anakin's scalp. Anakin began to doze off again, when a knock sounded on the door.

"Come in!" Obi-Wan called. It was Garen. Anakin studied him silently, not sure how he should feel. He was relieved that Obi-Wan did not abandon his task, but simply spoke to Garen while he slid another band and bead into place. "How are you, old friend?" his Master asked.

Garen grinned, then held up his hands in a peace offering. "I come bearing no alcohol this time," he clarified. He glanced at Anakin. "How you doin', kid? You and Oafy get everything straightened out?"

Anakin nodded. He really did like Garen, he reminded himself. Just because he'd been in a bad mood last night didn't make Garen a bad person. Besides, he could see why he liked Obi-Wan. As long as Garen understood that Anakin wasn't going to be giving his Master up, he decided they could get along.

"Good," Garen said with a lopsided grin. He tossed himself into the chair across from them and put his feet up on the coffee table.

Beside Anakin, Obi-Wan let out a pained sigh. Anakin blinked and cocked his head. "It's like ... there's two of me," he commented idly.

Garen guffawed and slapped him heartily on the back. "You're okay, kid, you know that?" Anakin grinned.

Obi-Wan sighed at them both. "It really is," he muttered.


End file.
